


An Oak Tree on the Grounds of Oxford University

by webley bulldog (fanficsofclare)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Characters to be added, Crime Solving, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Minor Character Death, More tags to be added, Sexual Tension, Sherlock is 19, authors lack of scientific knowledge, graphic descriptions of bodies, implied sherlock/victor, implied victor/jim, jim is 17, john is 25, murders, title may change, victor is 21
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 06:31:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3371339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanficsofclare/pseuds/webley%20bulldog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the beginning Sherlock's last year at Oxford, the first night back, he see's a body nailed to a tree. His only suspect, a mysterious blond man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Oak Tree on the Grounds of Oxford University

Mid September, Sherlock found himself, yet again, heading out by train to Oxford. Tedious as university had been the two years previous he was determined to return, if only to use and abuse the lab facilities provided on his course.   
  
Pleased to have found a section of the train to himself, he soon became disgruntled when a blond came through the sliding doors, sitting across from Sherlock. He carried an over the shoulder bag, dressed with a rugby team emblem, and a frown.  
  
Sherlock recognised the frown of a young person on their first train ride to the college, but it did not quite make sense to him. For the blond did not look young enough to be in the first year of university. He was at least six years Sherlock's senior, which meant that Sherlock was 19 to this blonds assumed 25. A late bloomer possibly, but Sherlock didn't think so. Something about this blond was off.  
  
Realising he was staring, he averted his gaze to the repetitive scenery of the country zipping by. With an hour still to go, he closed his eyes and fell into his mind to think, pondering lightly about the stranger.   
  
~  
  
He must have dozed off, as he felt a gentle touch to his shoulder wake him. Groggily opening his eyes, he looked up to met the very blue eyes of the blond stranger.  
  
"We're here." He said with a small smile before slipping away out the doors onto the platform, bag slung over his shoulder. Sherlock watched him walk away before picking up his own luggage and vacating the train.  
  
He managed to walk to a few paces before his name was called out in a voice he unfortunately recognised.  
  
"Victor." He replied flatly before turning towards to voice. Victor Trevor stood with a smirk and a lit cigarette between his fingers.  
  
"Miss me?" He said, in a voice that was forcible sultry, holding out the cigarette for Sherlock. Taking the offering and dragging slowly from, Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
  
"Of course." He said, only half sarcastic, blowing smoke out as the two walked side by side towards the dorms. He didn't mention the stranger as they talked idly, both avoiding the topic of sleeping arrangements.   
  
~  
  
When the approached their shared dorm, Victor began talking with ease.  
"Hope you don't mind, I invited one of the new kids to hang out tonight. He's one of them boy geniuses, like you. Expect he's younger than you, barely legal if you ask me. He's mighty cute though." Victor pushed the door open, following Sherlock inside and dumping his bag. "Might have a try at him, if you wouldn't mind."  
  
"Why would I mind?" Sherlock asked, flopping on to his bed and closing his eyes. And why would he? There was no romantic relationship between them, only the occasional shag against the wall.  
  
"No idea." Victor forced out a breathe of air in mimic of a laugh, mirroring Sherlock's movements on to his own bed. "So you might need to go out later, if things go the right way between me and this kid."  
  
"Sure." Sherlock replied flatly, opening one eye to glance at Victor. "How old is he?" He asked cautiously.    
  
Victor smirked without opening his eyes. "Seventeen, don't worry I ain't no cradle snatcher."  
  
"Oh yeah? I was 15 when we first..." Sherlock trailed off at the memory.  
  
"And I was 17, not 30. Don't exaggerate Sherlock." Victor said without bite, sitting up to look at him.  
  
"Whatever." Sherlock muttered. "I'll be out the way, I'll go for a smoke or something."   
  
Victor beamed, reaching over the ruffle Sherlock's curls. "That's my boy." He chuckled softly as Sherlock batted his hand away.   
  
~  
  
The new boy genius was short, continuously grinning like an idiot. He looked unbelievable pleased about something, which was pissing Sherlock off beyond usual. The kid  sat next to Victor on the bed, a beer in his left hand and his right hand comfortably on Victors thigh.  
  
"So.... Sherl, can I call you sherl?" He drawled in a Dublin accent, continuing without a comment of approval from Sherlock. "What are you studying?"  
  
"Chemistry." Sherlock replied in a tone meant to end the conversation. The boy only sipped from his bottle and spoke again.  
  
"Me too, we should study together sometime. I'd love to study you- I mean with you." He and Victor laughed, smirks upon both of their faces.  
  
"I'm going for a smoke." Sherlock announced to no one in particular, standing with a lighter and packet in hand and walking towards to door. Victor winked as Sherlock left, turning to kiss his new friend hungrily.   
  
~  
  
Outside, the air was calm and cool, breath coming from Sherlock's mouth in think white clouds, even without the aid of a cigarette. He lit one and brought it to his lips as he began walking around the campus he knew so well.  
  
The sky was dark and the moon was hidden by clouds, leaving Sherlock to some well-deserved peace and quiet as he wandered the grounds. The gentle wind rustled the leafy surroundings.   
  
He checked his watch, greeted by a 2:34 am, which glowed brightly in the near pitch black. He decided to wait another ten minutes before heading back, not wanting to interrupt.  
  
As he began reaching the end of his first cycle of the grounds, something caught his eye among the bushes. He strained his ears and picked up the not so gentle sounds of rustling, not caused by the wind but by something. Or someone.  
  
Curiously, he began making his way closer. He stopped just before the bush as he heard a voice muttering.  
  
"Damn it." The voice whispered harshly, a muffled bang following as something was dropped. "Fucking wires."  
  
Sherlock cleared his throat expectantly and a head popped up.  
"Oh bugger." The head exclaimed, standing up and hitting a low branch. "Fuck." The stranger clutched his head, torch in the other hand.  
  
"What on earth are you doing?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow he hoped the person could see in the dark.  
  
"Can't say." The torch in his hand shifted and Sherlock was given a good view of the strangers face.   
  
"It's you. The man from the train." Sherlock said out loud.  
  
"Shit." The blond hissed. "What can I do to make sure you forget you saw me here?" He dropped the torch from his sweaty palm and bent to collect it, scrambling around on the dirt.  
  
"Nothing." Sherlock climbed through the shrubbery and knelt down, eye level. "You better explain what you are doing."  
  
With an annoyed huff, the blond collected the torch. "Fine. I'm.... Doing an experiment. Although technically I'm not really allowed to. That's why you can't tell anyone." He remained silent after that, rearranging wires to a silhouetted object with Sherlock deduced to be a recording device.  
  
"I won't tell anyone if you let me participate. I haven't done a good experiment in ages." Sherlock saw the man tense visibly.  
  
"No." He said flatly. "Just go away. Please."  
  
And with that, he stopped fiddling with the equipment and sat down, crossing his arms in defiance. Sherlock chuckled with amusement and stood up.  
  
"Suit yourself. I assure you my assistance would have been most useful." Sherlock walked away, flicking his burnt out cigarette onto the stone path. He turned the final corner of his route and stopped suddenly.  
  
Shock overcame him as he took in the sight before him. A girl he didn't recognise was hanging from an oak tree, arms above her naked body. Her elbows and palms had been nailed to the bark, presumably while she was still alive, a deep fatal stab wound under her left breast.  
  
He stumbled, breaking into a run back towards the shrubbery. But when he arrived, the equipment and the stranger were gone. 

**Author's Note:**

> So this is hopefully the beginning of a fairly long story. I aim to update at least once a week, however I might forget so please shout at me in the comments if you wish for more. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and that I have managed to intrigue you in some way.  
> If I have made any mistakes please let me know and I'll correct them. Also, as I have never been to Oxford University, I'm kind of making the rules and schedules and all up as I go along, so if I get anything terribly incorrect just pop the correction into the comment and I'll be happy to apply  
> Thank you!


End file.
